The romance of Guy of Warwick. The first or 14th-century version.

Page 631

Reinbrun, Gij sone of Warwike.

                    
                      Iesu, þat ert of miȝte most, [folio 167b:b] 
                    
                      Fader, & sone, & holy gost,
                    
                      Ich bidde þe a bone:
                    
                      Ase þow ert lord of our ginning,
                    
                      & madest heuene and alle þing,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Se, and sonne, and mone,
                    
                      Ȝeue hem grace wel to spede
                    
                      Þat herkneþ what y schel rede,
                    
                      Iesu, god in trone.
                    
                      Of a kniȝt was to batayle boun,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Sire Gij is sone, þat hiȝte Rey[n]broun,
                    
                      Of him y make my mone.

                    
                      ¶ [¶, though sug|gested by the scribe, omitted by the rubricator.]  His fader Gij, þat him get,
                    
                      He was a werrour swiþe gret:
                    
                      Þar nas nowhar his per
                    
                      In Fraunce, in Pycardy,
                    
                      In Spayne, in Lombardy,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Neyþer fer ne ner.
                    
                      Mani batayle he be-gan
                    
                      For þe loue of o wimman
                    
                      Þat was him lef & dere.
                    
                      Siþe Rey[n]broun on hire he wan,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þat was a swiþe douȝti man,
                    
                      Ase ȝe may forþward here.

Page 632

                    
                      ¶ Þay were togedre fifti niȝt, [folio 167b:a] 
                    
                      After a spusede þat swete wiȝt
                    
                      Wiþ meche melody.
                    
                      Þanne was be-ȝete þat baroun,
                    
                      His sone þat was cleped Rey[n]broun,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Of þat kniȝt sire Gij.
                    
                      Fourti wikes wiþ child ȝhe was
                    
                      & dilyured þourȝ [godes] gras
                    
                      And is moder Mari. [C line 8411] 
                    
                      Cristned hit was werschipliche:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Reinbroun men calde him, sikerliche,
                    
                      For-soþe and [Read y?]  nouȝt ne lye.

                    
                      ¶ Heraud hadde þat child to lore
                    
                      Seue winter and wel more:
                    
                      Ful wel he gan him lere.
                    
                      Be þat he was seue winter old,
                    
                      He was a fair child and a bold,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And of swete chere.
                    
                      So hit befel þat of fer lond
                    
                      Marchauns [Marchaund MS.]  riche, ich vnder-stond,
                    
                      Hider þai come were:
                    
                      Gold and seluer þai brouȝte meche,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Badekenes and pane riche,
                    
                      Gris and menyuer,

                    
                      ¶ Bras, maslyn, yren, & stel,
                    
                      Wod-wex, selk, and cendel,
                    
                      Gingiuer and galingale,
                    
                      Clowes, quibibes, gren de Paris,
                    
                      Pyper, and comyn, and swet anis,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Mani a riche bale,
                    
                      Fykes, reisyn, dates,
                    
                      Almaund, rys, pomme-garnates,
                    
                      Kanel and setewale,
                    
                      Scarlet and grene wel y-wrouȝt:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      More richesse wiþ hem hii brouȝt
                    
                      Þan y can tellen in tale.

Page 633

                    
                      ¶ Þai riuede at Londen þat cite:
                    
                      King Aþelstond þan fonden he,
                    
                      Þat her was king wiþ croune.
                    
                      A ȝaf hem leue in alle wise
                    
                      To wende wiþ her marchaundise
                      Line 5 
                    
                      In is londe fro toun to toune.
                    
                      To Walingforde þai gonne fare:
                    
                      A strong bourȝ þai fonde þare
                    
                      (Þai boskede & made hem boune), [folio 167b:b] 
                    
                      Ac it was strued, wiþ-outen lesing,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      For werre of Heraud & þe king:
                    
                      Hit was niȝ brouȝt adoun.

                    
                      Þe marchauns kedde hii wer fre:
                    
                      A Spayniis mvle than token he,
                    
                      To Heraud hii [hit] sende.
                    
                      For he was lord of þat cite,
                    
                      Wiþ him hii þouȝte wel to be:
                      Line 5 
                    
                      So þai han him kende.
                    
                      Sire Heraud, for soþ to say,
                    
                      Bad hem ete wiþ him þat day,
                    
                      Er hij þannes wende.
                    
                      Þe marchauns seie þe child goand
                      Line 10 
                    
                      In þe halle faire pleiande,
                    
                      Þat was so faire and hende.

                    
                      ¶ At a kniȝt hii askede anon riȝt
                    
                      Whas was þo child so faire of siȝt
                    
                      And of swete chere,
                    
                      And he answerde anon, y pliȝt,
                    
                      'Hit is Gij is sone, þe gode kniȝt,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat Heraud haþ to lere.'
                    
                      Þe marchauns hem beþouȝte,
                    
                      Ȝif hii þat child haue mouȝte,
                    
                      Hii wolde stele him þere;
                    
                      &, ȝif hii hadde þat child bolde,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Richely in-to her londe þai wolde,
                    
                      And selle hit full dere.

Page 634

                    
                      ¶ Wiþ þe porter þai speke stille, [C line 8453] 
                    
                      Þat hii hadden al her wille.
                    
                      Þai ȝeue him riche mede:
                    
                      He betauȝte hem þe child þare,
                    
                      And into schip þai gonne fare;
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Away þai gonne him lede.
                    
                      Þay gonne saily toward Roussy:
                    
                      Al glad hii were þet londe to sy;
                    
                      Hii þouȝte wel to spede.
                    
                      Al siker hii were alond te gon,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Ac swiche a strom hem cam upon,
                    
                      Þat sore hem gonne drede.

                    
                      ¶ Þe wind began to blowen loude,
                    
                      Þe elmence þikkede on þe cloude:
                    
                      Gret strom hem wex vpon.
                    
                      Þe four wyndes began to blowe,
                    
                      Þe se gan tornen & to þrowe: [folio 168a:a] 
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Ded hii wende haue ben echon.
                    
                      Here ropes to-borsten, her mast also:
                    
                      Þar nas non þat him nas wo;
                    
                      Hii made reuful mon.
                    
                      To Iesu Crist þai gonne crye
                      Line 10 
                    
                      And to his moder Marie:
                    
                      Nas þer no beter won.

                    
                      ¶ Þe wind faire slake gan:
                    
                      Mery in þe se þe schip ran.
                    
                      Ase god hit wolde
                    
                      Þai wer driuen al þe niȝt:
                    
                      In Aufrik þai riuede riȝt;
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þai toke a wel gode holde.
                    
                      Þe marchauns han it vnder-nome,
                    
                      Þat hii beþ into Aufrik come:
                    
                      Hii þouȝte þat hii wolde
                    
                      Þe king of þe lond presenti
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Wiþ þat child þat was so fry
                    
                      And of chere bolde.

Page 635

                    
                      ¶ Of hem hii token marchauns þre
                    
                      Þat noble were, curteis, & fre,
                    
                      Wiþoute more duelling:
                    
                      Þai toke þat child, veraiment,
                    
                      And made þerwiþ a present
                      Line 5 
                    
                      To Arguus þe king.
                    
                      Þe king hadde a douȝter fair:
                    
                      Of al Aufrik ȝhe was air,
                    
                      A swiþe fair ȝonling.
                    
                      Meche ȝhe kouþe of menstralcie,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Of harpe, of fiþele, of sautri,
                    
                      Of romaunce reding.

                    
                      ¶ So was Reynbroun, for soþ to say,
                    
                      Meche liche þat faire may
                    
                      Of semlaunt and of chere.
                    
                      Besouȝt ȝhe haþ be hir moder rede,
                    
                      & to hire fader king ȝhe sede,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      'Leue, fader dere,
                    
                      Y mote him in me chaumber norsy:
                    
                      Ȝet a may me seruy;
                    
                      Norture y schel him lere.'
                    
                      Þe king him graunted þourȝ alle þing,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      For he hire louede wiþ-oute lesing,
                    
                      To ben hire plaie-fere.

                    
                      Whan sire Heraud parseued was [folio 168a:b] 
                    
                      Þe child was stole, for þat cas
                    
                      Gret sorwe he gan make. [C line 8497] 
                    
                      He let seche him in þat cite:
                    
                      Mani man made gret pite
                      Line 5 
                    
                      For þat childes sake.
                    
                      Wiþ mesagers a sente is sonde
                    
                      To seche him in mani londe
                    
                      Ȝif hii him miȝte of-take;
                    
                      &, whan hii him finde ne miȝte,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Sorwe hii made day & niȝte:
                    
                      For drede þai gonne quake.

Page 636

                    
                      ¶ Hit nas nouȝt longe after þan,
                    
                      Þat in Londen held king Aþelstan
                    
                      A riel parlement.
                    
                      Sire Heraud þeder gan gon:
                    
                      Þe king a [Read him?]  werschipede & mani on,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Whan he was þeder y-went.
                    
                      Oþer hadde þer-of envie,
                    
                      And þouȝte hii wolde on him lye,
                    
                      Þat a wer y-schent,
                    
                      & segge he hadde Reinbroun sold
                      Line 10 
                    
                      For is wiȝte of rede gold
                    
                      To þe marchauns, verayment.

                    
                      ¶ 'Lordinges,' seide þe king y-core,
                    
                      'Al ȝe ben to me y-swore
                    
                      For helpe me at nede.
                    
                      Ȝour consaile wite y welle.
                    
                      Wel ȝe witen ȝe han herd telle
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Ase ȝour eldren sede, [fede MS.?] 
                    
                      Þat þe king of Denemark
                    
                      Þourȝ a geaunt stor & stark
                    
                      Kalaungeþ al oure þede.
                    
                      A gret ost he haþ y-nome
                      Line 10 
                    
                      & ȝif he may vs ouercome
                    
                      He makeþ our sides blede.'

                    
                      ¶ 'Sire,' queþ Heraud, 'þarf þe no drede:
                    
                      Þourȝ godes help we scholle wel spede
                    
                      Þei he vs wile asaile.
                    
                      Gode kniȝtes ȝe han & cite stro[n]g:
                    
                      Ȝif ȝe him douteþ it is wrong
                      Line 5 
                    
                      For al is grete taile.
                    
                      Myn eldren seide, ich vnder-stonde,
                    
                      Þe Dennisch men hadde riȝt in þis londe,
                    
                      Wiþ-outen eni faile, [folio 168b:a] 
                    
                      Whilom, & nouȝt ful ȝore it is,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      & siþþe þai han it lore, y-wis,
                    
                      And here folk in bataile.

Page 637

                    
                      ¶ Now þai han loren here riȝt:
                    
                      Hii weren ouercomen in fiȝt
                    
                      Þourȝ help of god almiȝte.
                    
                      Þarfore ensemle þe barouns
                    
                      Þat haþ þe toures & þe tounes
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Before þe an hiȝte. [anhiȝte MS.] 
                    
                      At what hauen þai alende,
                    
                      Ase tit aȝen hem we scholle wende
                    
                      Wiþ hors and armes briȝte.
                    
                      & ȝif a comeþ in þis londe, y-wis,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      We scholle sle him & alle his:
                    
                      So wel we scholle fiȝte.'

                    
                      ¶  [¶ omitted by the rubricator, although sug|gested by the scribe.] Þanne seide þe king, 'þow hast wel sed:
                    
                      Þou hast red me a gode red;
                    
                      Y-blessed mote þow be.
                    
                      A beter rede ne wot y non:
                    
                      Ase þow hast seid so y schel don,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Also mote ich þe.
                    
                      Þow ert me beste consailer:
                    
                      In al þis lond þer nis þe per
                    
                      Þat ich mowe y-se.
                    
                      Al þe while icham coren king,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Don ich wile be þe teching,
                    
                      Sire Heraud þe fre.'

                    
                      Þe duk Medyok vp aras:
                    
                      Of al Cornewaile lord he was, [C line 8563] 
                    
                      A sterne kniȝt & a grim.
                    
                      'Sire king,' a seide, 'herkne to me.
                    
                      Þow ert nouȝt wis ase þe holdest þe,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Whan þow leuest on him.
                    
                      Þow werschepest him fer & ner,
                    
                      And he nis boute a losenger
                    
                      Ful of tresoun [and] gin.
                    
                      Beter we beþ to þe consaile
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þanne þe treitour, wiþ-outen faile,
                    
                      Be god and seinte Martyn.

Page 638

                    
                      ¶ His gode lord traye he gan
                    
                      Þat þourȝ him he was maked man,
                    
                      Of Warwik sire Gij:
                    
                      Euel he haþ is while ȝolde,
                    
                      Whan he Reinbroun, is sone, solde [folio 168b:b] 
                      Line 5 
                    
                      To þe marchauns of Roussy:
                    
                      For gold & seluer gret plente
                    
                      To þe marchauns diliurede he,
                    
                      Ase we gonne aspie.
                    
                      & ȝif he hadde þe riȝte lawe
                      Line 10 
                    
                      A scholde ben hanged & drawe
                    
                      For þat trecherie.'

                    
                      ¶ Þo Heraud herde him speke so,
                    
                      Him þouȝte his herte barst ato:
                    
                      Vp he sterte an hye.
                    
                      'Felawe duk,' a seide, 'þow lyxst,
                    
                      Whan þow wiþ tresoun me betwyxst:
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þow dost me vileynie.
                    
                      Þow hit schelt to soþe bringe
                    
                      Þat þow hast seid be-fore þe kinge,
                    
                      Or þow schelt abye.
                    
                      Hasteliche now arme þe:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Anon it schel proued be,
                    
                      Þat þow dost on me lye.

                    
                      ¶ Ich wile þat y ben hanged & drawe
                    
                      Boute y defende me wiþ þe lawe
                    
                      Of þis famacioun,
                    
                      Þat þow seist y scholde selle
                    
                      Me lordes sone þat ich of telle,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat men clepede Reinbroun.
                    
                      Whan ich þe soþe parseued hadde,
                    
                      Þe marchauns him hadde wei ladde
                    
                      Me of-þouȝte þat tresoun.
                    
                      Wiþ mesagers y sente me sonde
                      Line 10 
                    
                      To seche him in mani londe:
                    
                      Þow lyxst on me, feloun.

Page 639

                    
                      ¶ Before þe king i say þe riȝt,
                    
                      Þar-to me treuþe y þe pliȝt:
                    
                      To seche him y schel fonde
                    
                      In Fraunce, in Lombardie,
                    
                      In Spayne, in Spir, in Roussie,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      In mani an honkouþ londe.
                    
                      Betwene þis and þe lond of Ynde
                    
                      Ȝif a be, y schel him fynde,
                    
                      And bringe him to honde.
                    
                      & whan ichaue so y-do
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þin heued y schel smite þe fro:
                    
                      For no man nel ich wonde.'

                    
                      ¶ 'Pes, feloun,' queþ [þ]erl of Cornewayle [folio 169a:a]  [C line 8623] , [ȝis feloun quaþ þerl of cornwaile] 
                    
                      'Al þe lesing schel þe nouȝt vaile:
                    
                      Traytour þow worst holde.'
                    
                      Þat herde anoþer kniȝt:
                    
                      Egar a het, forsoþ apliȝt,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Heraud is man y-tolde.
                    
                      His steward, for-soþ, he was:
                    
                      He sterte vp in þat plas,
                    
                      And to the duk a wolde.
                    
                      'Felawe duk,' a seide, 'þow lixst,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Whan þow me lorde be-twixst
                    
                      Þat he Reinbroun solde.

                    
                      Fif hondred siþe haue þow maugre
                    
                      Of Iesu, þat sit in trinite,
                    
                      Iesu ful of miȝt,
                    
                      Boute þow swiþe arme þe,
                    
                      & do þe bataile aȝenes me,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And proue it [proued MS.]  ariȝt.'
                    
                      Þar hii hadde togedres smite,
                    
                      Nadde þe king hit vnder-ȝite,
                    
                      & departede hem an hiȝt.
                    
                      He bad hem lete be þat fare,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      & besouȝte hem to make hem ȝare
                    
                      Aȝenes þe Dennisch king to fiȝt.

Page 640

                    
                      Heraud [Beraud MS., by a mistake of the rubricator.]  wiþ is ferde fre [C line 8683] 
                    
                      Wente to Walingford þat cite
                    
                      Ful of sorwe and care.
                    
                      'Egar,' a seide, 'þow schelt be-leue,
                    
                      & kepe þis land to me be-heue,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And forþ ich wile fare,
                    
                      Til ich Reynbroun finde may:
                    
                      Y ne schel reste niȝt ne day,
                    
                      Til ich wite whar he ware.
                    
                      Ac war þe fro þerl of Cornewayle:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      He wile arere on þe batayle;
                    
                      He nele þe noþing spare.'

                    
                      ¶ 'Sire,' queþ Egar, 'we scholle vs were,
                    
                      Þat he ne schel vs noþing dere,
                    
                      Þei he vs wile agreue.'
                    
                      Heraud went out of þat cite:
                    
                      For him was maked gret pite,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Whan he tok his leue.
                    
                      Hasteliche to schip a wente,
                    
                      Gode wind and weder god him sente:
                    
                      In Denemark þai gonne riue. [folio 169a:b] 
                    
                      In Fraunce, in Lombardie,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      In Spayne, in Spyr, in Roussie
                    
                      Reynbroun a souȝte bliue.

                    
                      ¶ Þourȝ mani londes þai him souȝte:
                    
                      Whan hii miȝte finde nouȝte,
                    
                      To schip þai gonne fare.
                    
                      To Costantin noble hii wolde wende:
                    
                      Swiche a tempest god hem gan sende,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat hii come nouȝt þare.
                    
                      Þai were driue wiþ-oute þe toun:
                    
                      In Aufrik þai riuede soune.
                    
                      Þanne wer þai ful of care.
                    
                      Þe cite on þe riuage hii sye,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Meche & wide, & walles hye:
                    
                      Of blisse þai wer al bare.

Page 641

                    
                      ¶ 'O god,' seide þe meister þo,
                    
                      'Gret mishap is come vs to: [C line 8703] 
                    
                      Our lif y telle y-lore.
                    
                      In Aufrik we ben, wiþ-outen lesing,
                    
                      Upon Arguus lond þe king:
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Worsse man nas neuer bore.
                    
                      Al þat leueþ in godes lawe
                    
                      A wile hem hongen & to-drawe:
                    
                      His oþ he haþ y-swore.
                    
                      Al for-soþe, we beþ dede,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Boute god vs helpe at our nede,
                    
                      Þat was of Marie bore.'

                    
                      ¶ Heraud seide, 'whas is þis cite?
                    
                      Distrued it is, so þenkeþ me:
                    
                      Her haþ be strong bataile.'
                    
                      Þe maroner seide, 'y þe telle
                    
                      For soþe, sire, lye i nelle:
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Wiþouten eni faile,
                    
                      Hit is þemerailes Parsan:
                    
                      In þis world nis þer worsse man
                    
                      Cristene men to asaile.'
                    
                      Þe Sarazins come wiþ þis,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      & nemeþ Heraud & alle his,
                    
                      And distrueþ is vitaile.

                    
                      ¶ Þai nomen Heraud & al is man,
                    
                      And brouȝte hem before Parsan,
                    
                      Þat was of gret power.
                    
                      He let hem caste in prisoun
                    
                      Stinkande & þerk, wel fer adoun, [folio 169b:a] 
                      Line 5 
                    
                      For þai cristen were.
                    
                      Lite þai ete & dronke, ywis: [C line 10793] 
                    
                      Vnneþe her lif sostened is;
                    
                      To god he made his prayere.
                    
                      For Reynbroun him was ful wo,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      For he neste whider he was go:
                    
                      He made reuly chere.

Page 642

                    
                      'O,' seide [he], 'allas, allas!
                    
                      In werre douȝti man y was,
                    
                      And now icham for-lore.'
                    
                      On of þe gaylers herde þis:
                    
                      To þemeraile a wente, y-wis,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And gan him telle fore:
                    
                      'Sire,' a seide, 'wite nouȝt ȝe
                    
                      Of a prisoun ȝe han in ȝour pouste,
                    
                      A noble man y-kore?
                    
                      A is wel douȝti in bataile
                      Line 10 
                    
                      * * * * * [A line is want|ing here in MS.] 
                    
                      Ase icham to ȝou swore.'

                    
                      ¶ Queþ þemeraile, 'bringe him forþ now.
                    
                      Ȝif he be swich ase seistow,
                    
                      Meche helpe me a miȝte.'
                    
                      Þe gayler wente aȝen anon,
                    
                      & to þe prisoun he gan gon,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And Heraud vp atwiȝte.
                    
                      In a sklauin he gan him folde.
                    
                      Swiþe meche a was be-holde
                    
                      Of mani a douȝti kniȝte.
                    
                      His berde was to is brest y-wax,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      To his gerder heng is fax:
                    
                      Grisliche he was of siȝte.

                    
                      ¶ Before þemeraile hii [hem MS.]  gan him lede,
                    
                      & a-reisoned him in ech a side,
                    
                      'Man, what is þe name?
                    
                      Whar wer þow bore (tel me now),
                    
                      Þat so meche of werre canstow?
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Of þe ichaue game.
                    
                      Ich, ameraile Parsan,
                    
                      Icham a swiþe douȝti man:
                    
                      Wide springeþ me fame.
                    
                      Miȝte [y] of þe siker be,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þat þou woldest serue me,
                    
                      Ne schostow haue no schame.'

Page 643

                    
                      ¶ He answerde, 'leue lord,
                    
                      To þe ich wile bere rekord, [folio 169b:b] 
                    
                      And telle y wile þe:
                    
                      Heraud, for-soþ, me nam is
                    
                      (In grete dede ichaue be er þis),
                      Line 5 
                    
                      So men clepeþ me.
                    
                      Ȝif me stringþe wer aȝen i-come
                    
                      Þat ichaue lore in þe prisone,
                    
                      Ich wer of gret pouste.
                    
                      Find me stede gode & liȝt,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Spere, & scheld, & armes briȝt:
                    
                      Þe man wile ich be.'

                    
                      ¶ Queþ þemeraile, 'wolcome, ywis!
                    
                      Þow schelt haue þat þe nede is,
                    
                      Briȝt armur & stede.
                    
                      Ingliis þow ert, sikerly:
                    
                      Knew þow ouȝt þe gode Gij,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat douȝti wes of dede?'
                    
                      Heraud seide, 'y knew him wel:
                    
                      His man icham & euer be schel.
                    
                      He was tauȝt me to fede.
                    
                      His sone was stolen him [Read me?]  fro:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      To seche him icham y-go,
                    
                      Ȝif god me wolde spede.'

                    
                      Þemeraile cleped is chaumborlain,
                    
                      And bad him wiþ al is mayn
                    
                      Heraud to him take.
                    
                      In pourpre pal þei gan him schrede,
                    
                      & founde him al þat was nede,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And baþes let him make.
                    
                      On a day sire ameraile [C line 10877] 
                    
                      Tok Heraud in consaile
                    
                      Wiþ-oute þe castel gate:
                    
                      'Now Arguus king werreþ on me,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Me nis leued boute þis cite
                    
                      For grete werre & hate.

Page 644

                    
                      ¶ Þe king haþ a kniȝt wiþ him
                    
                      Sterne in bataile & swiþe grim:
                    
                      Of swich þow neuer herd.
                    
                      In þis world nis man, sikerly,
                    
                      Boute hit wer þe lord sire Gij,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat of him nolde ben aferd. [afered MS.] 
                    
                      Miȝtest of him awreke me,
                    
                      A noble prins þan schostow be,
                    
                      & sle him wiþ dent of swerd.'
                    
                      Heraud seide, 'so y schel do, [folio 170a:a] 
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Ȝif god wile helpe me þerto,
                    
                      Be min hore berd.'

                    
                      Wiþ þat com a mesagere bold,
                    
                      To þemeraile he haþ y-told
                    
                      Swiþe hard tiding:
                    
                      King Arguus stiward wiþ-outen let
                    
                      On of is castels hadde be-set,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Wiþouten eni lesing.
                    
                      Whan þemeraile herde þis,
                    
                      He bad is stiward, for-soþ y-wis,
                    
                      His folk be-fore him bringe.
                    
                      So a dede riȝt anon,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      & bad hem bosken euerichon
                    
                      Al boun to batailinge.

                    
                      Heraud lep on a rabyte [arabyte MS.]  [C line 10911] 
                    
                      Þat was meche, & noþing lite,
                    
                      Rod out of þe toun.
                    
                      Þat ost him siwede fair & wel,
                    
                      Til hii come to þe castel
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Wiþ spere and gounfanoun,
                    
                      Wiþ helm on heued & brinie briȝt.
                    
                      Iyren-wrye mani a kniȝt
                    
                      To bataile wer þai boun.
                    
                      Ayþer ost gan oþer asaile:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Ech man fondede, wiþouten faile,
                    
                      To felle is foman adoun.

Page 645

                    
                      ¶ Heraud a Sarazin smot,
                    
                      Þat he fel doun fot hot
                    
                      Dede of is stede.
                    
                      Þe þredde, þe ferþe þat he mai hitte—
                    
                      No man miȝte his strok wiþ-sitte.
                      Line 5 
                    
                      For wreþþe a wolde a-wede.
                    
                      Wiþ is swerd of meche pris
                    
                      Mani Sarazin a slouȝ, y-wis,
                    
                      And made here sides blede.
                    
                      Þe Sarazins seide hit was a fend
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þe deuel hadde þeder i-sent
                    
                      Þemeraile [Emeraile MS.]  to spede.

                    
                      ¶ Þe king hadde a Sarazin,
                    
                      His stiward, þat seruede Apolyn:
                    
                      Heraud he gan þrete.
                    
                      Heraud he mete & is men echon:
                    
                      Hard þai hewe to-gedre anon,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And delde dentes grete. [folio 170a:b] 
                    
                      Þe stiward was sconfited þere,
                    
                      Abated was þe meister banere:
                    
                      To fle þai nolde lete.
                    
                      Heraud siwede him on a rabyte: [arabyte MS.] 
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Hard hii gonne to-gedre smite
                    
                      Sterne strokes and grete.

                    
                      ¶ Here scheftes schiurede, scheldes flitte,
                    
                      Brenyes barsten, [barsteþ MS.]  hauberk ritte:
                    
                      Þar was strong bataile.
                    
                      Heraud ouercom him in þat fiȝt,
                    
                      And ladde him to his folk ariȝt,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Wiþouten eni faile.
                    
                      Prisouns þai toke gret plente:
                    
                      Forþ hii wente to þat cite
                    
                      To þemeraile,
                    
                      & presente him þe stiward,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þat in werre was so hard,
                    
                      Swiþe heȝ of paraile.

Page 646

                    
                      ¶ Þanne seide þemeraile,
                    
                      'Heraud, do be me consaile:
                    
                      Me stiward þow schelt be.
                    
                      Erles, barouns, riche & poure,
                    
                      Al me land folk lasse & more
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Scholle do after þe.'
                    
                      Þanne gret werre he began:
                    
                      Boþe into is hond he wan
                    
                      Castel and cite
                    
                      Þat þemeraile hadde lore:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      King Arguus made þar-fore
                    
                      Deul and gret pite.

                    
                      ¶ Þo þe king wiste þis,
                    
                      Þat his stiward nomen is, [C line 10993] 
                    
                      And al his men a-slawe,
                    
                      Wroþ he was and sori:
                    
                      His barouns a clepede an hie,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And tolde to hem þat sawe.
                    
                      Þanne answerde an old kniȝt,
                    
                      'Sire, y nel þe lye no-wiȝt:
                    
                      A kniȝt of cristene lawe
                    
                      Þemeraile is souder is he.
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þe wer beter þan þis cite
                    
                      Þat he wer of dawe.

                    
                      ¶ Hore a is and kniȝt ful eld:
                    
                      Wel gode hit were to flen is scheld. [folio 170b:a] 
                    
                      Sire, þe miȝt me leue:
                    
                      In al þe lond Sarazin þer nis
                    
                      Wer he neuer so strong, y-wis,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat he nolde to-cleue.'
                    
                      Þe king seide, 'a fend [afend MS.]  it is.
                    
                      To Mahoun i swore, y-wis,
                    
                      Wel sore y schel him greue.
                    
                      Min ost schel ensembled be,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      In is lond schel brenne and sle:
                    
                      No cite schel ich be-leue.'

Page 647

                    
                      ¶ Þe king a parlement let crie.
                    
                      To þemeraile a wolde an hie
                    
                      Wiþ briȝt armvr & stede,
                    
                      His castels struede & is cite:
                    
                      Þat Heraud wan þanne les he,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Douȝti man of dede.
                    
                      Whan þemeraile wiste þis
                    
                      He bed is kniȝtes, for-soþ y-wis,
                    
                      To helpe him at is nede.
                    
                      Heraud was prest to bataile:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þe king is ost he gan asaile;
                    
                      God þat day him spede!

                    
                      Faste þei smite to her fon:
                    
                      Wiþ swerdes, speres wel gode won
                    
                      Togedres þai gonne fiȝte.
                    
                      Gret slauȝter was in eiþer side:
                    
                      Þe blod ran in þe feld wel wide
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Of mani a douȝti kniȝte.
                    
                      Heraud mette wiþ þe king,
                    
                      & smot him wiþ is swerd keruing
                    
                      A strok of meche miȝte:
                    
                      Þer he hadde slawe him þo,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Boute his ost com him to:
                    
                      An [And MS.]  hors þai gonne him diȝte.

                    
                      ¶ Wel stoutliche þe king gan fiȝte:
                    
                      Al þat a mette he felde doun riȝte.
                    
                      Heraud he gan discrie.
                    
                      Þemeraile was sconfited þere:
                    
                      Abated was þe meister banere
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And al here cheualrie.
                    
                      In eche side asailed a is
                    
                      Wiþ speres & wiþ swerdes, iwis,
                    
                      Þat he miȝte nouȝt flie.
                    
                      Wiþ is swerd a wereþ him wel [folio 170b:b] 
                      Line 10 
                    
                      In eche side, ase a gode kniȝt schel,
                    
                      Whiles a miȝte driȝe.

Page 648

                    
                      ¶ Þo he seȝ Heraud a cleped him to: [C line 11053] 
                    
                      To helpe him he gan go.
                    
                      An erl Heraud gan mete:
                    
                      Heraud wiþ is fauchoun him smot
                    
                      A dent þat þourȝ is helm bot;
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þar a lefte þe swete.
                    
                      Heraud & þemeraile anon
                    
                      Delde dentes wel god won:
                    
                      For noþing þai nolde lete.
                    
                      Þe king þai sailede and al is men:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      So mani ȝede to deþe þen,
                    
                      Þat grimly þai gonne grete.

                    
                      ¶ Þe king wel sori þanne was he,
                    
                      Whan he seȝ is men fle,
                    
                      And al y-brouȝt to gronde.
                    
                      Whar þat he seȝ Heraud ride
                    
                      He fleȝ awei be þat oþer side
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Wel sory in þat stonde.
                    
                      His men ouercome were:
                    
                      Þar-fore sori he was þere
                    
                      & for his owene wonde.
                    
                      King Arguus, for-soþ, a geþ: [ageþ MS.] 
                      Line 10 
                    
                      A was afered of is deþ
                    
                      Ȝif þat a were y-fonde.

                    
                      ¶ Whan Heraud parseued is,
                    
                      Be his armes a knew him, iwis,
                    
                      And after him he gan ride.
                    
                      Neȝ he hadde him ouer-come,
                    
                      Slawe, oþer in þe feld y-nome
                      Line 5 
                    
                      In þat ilche tide.
                    
                      Þanne seȝ he come a ȝingling
                    
                      (Ouer al þe oþer a miȝte be king)
                    
                      Out of þe wodes side.
                    
                      Þe king him hadde dobbed kniȝt,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Ȝeue him hors & armes briȝt
                    
                      Wiþ wel meche pride.

Page 649

                    
                      ¶ Whan he seȝ þe king fleande,
                    
                      Heraud after him folwande,
                    
                      He him gan discrie:
                    
                      'Old man, no forþer þow ne gon,
                    
                      Boute þe ȝeue me bataile anon.
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þow dost a gret folye. [folio 171a:a] 
                    
                      Þe lif þow lest er þe gon:
                    
                      Þin heued þe king schel haue anon;
                    
                      For-soþ, þow schelt abye.
                    
                      Þe rabite is min, sikerliche:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Y ne disirede neuer hors so meche
                    
                      Þat y sauȝ wiþ eye.'

                    
                      ¶ Sire Heraud knew him anon
                    
                      Be his armes he hadde vpon:
                    
                      Togedres þai gonne ride,
                    
                      Þat boþe þei fellen of here stede,
                    
                      & seþe gonne swerdes brede:
                      Line 5 
                    
                      No lenger þai nolde abide.
                    
                      Hii cleueþ helm & scheldes bo:
                    
                      Gret fiȝt þer was betwene hem to
                    
                      In þat ilche tide.
                    
                      Þai hewe þe scheldes of gode entaile,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þe hauberk of so gode a maile
                    
                      Te-borsten be boþe side.

                    
                      ¶ Betwene hem was strong batayle:
                    
                      Eiþer fondede, wiþouten faile,
                    
                      To bringe oþer to dede.
                    
                      Ac, ȝif aiþer wiste of oþer ariȝt,
                    
                      Betwene hem to þar ner no fiȝt
                      Line 5 
                    
                      For none skines nede.
                    
                      Sire Heraud drouȝ him an heȝ, [C line 11109] 
                    
                      And seide, 'kniȝt corteis and sleȝ,
                    
                      Alse god þe spede,
                    
                      What is þe name? tel þow me,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      For godes loue in trinite,
                    
                      And of what þede.

Page 650

                    
                      ¶ Aȝild þe now to me:
                    
                      Gret harm it wer to sle þe,
                    
                      So ȝong a bacheler;
                    
                      For neuer kniȝt y ne fond
                    
                      So wel werchande wiþ dent of brond
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Naiþer fer ne ner.'
                    
                      Reinbroun seide, 'þerof be stille:
                    
                      Þat telle þe y ne wille,
                    
                      Be godes moder dere.
                    
                      Er þan ich wile ȝelde me
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Erst þin heued schel of fle
                    
                      Faste, be þe swere.

                    
                      ¶ Boute þow now telle me
                    
                      Wheþen þow ert, & what þow be, [folio 171a:b] 
                    
                      I schel þe sle anon riȝt;
                    
                      For þow ert old & whit i-blowe,
                    
                      Þe stringþe is gon alse y trowe,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þe power and þe miȝt.'
                    
                      Heraud seide, 'me frend fre,
                    
                      So fareþ folk in me contre
                    
                      In bataile and in fiȝt:
                    
                      Whan hii ginneþ for to helde,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þanne þai wexeþ stout, & belde,
                    
                      And stronge men, apliȝt.

                    
                      ¶ Er þow fro me departed be,
                    
                      Wel ȝonge thow schelt holde me,
                    
                      And douȝti man of dede.'
                    
                      Togedres þai smite, wiþ-outen faile, [C line 11139] 
                    
                      Ase sterne lyouns in bataile,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Kniȝtes stif on stede.
                    
                      To-gedre þai smite ernest & faste:
                    
                      Þe fur out of here helmes braste,
                    
                      And made here sides blede.
                    
                      Ful dedli fon now þai are:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Ȝet þai scholle be frendes þare;
                    
                      Crist þer-to hem spede!

Page 651

                    
                      ¶ Heraud seide, 'sire kniȝt,
                    
                      Herkne to me a lite wiȝt,
                    
                      For þe courteisie.
                    
                      Gode þow ert & hardi, ywis:
                    
                      In al þis land þe beter nis
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat ich conne aspie.
                    
                      Ȝif it were þe y-teld
                    
                      Which ichaue ben in feld
                    
                      Of miȝt and of meistrie,
                    
                      Ne wostow neuer aschamed be
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þe name for to telle me,
                    
                      Ne holde hit to vileynie.'

                    
                      ¶ 'Sire olde man,' þanne seide he,
                    
                      'For a coward ich holde þe.
                    
                      Min armes beþ al sonde,
                    
                      Me strokes beþ sene on þin helm cler:
                    
                      Out of þe scheld ichaue a quarter
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Y-feld to þe grounde.'
                    
                      Heraud seide, 'me frend fre,
                    
                      Þei min armes apeired be,
                    
                      Me bodi naþ no wounde.
                    
                      What is þe name? tel me fore, [folio 171b:a] 
                      Line 10 
                    
                      & y schel sai þe whar ich was bore,
                    
                      Er ich fro þe founde.

                    
                      ¶ Swiche tiding þow miȝt of me here,
                    
                      Or ich of þe in swiche manere,
                    
                      Þat frendes scholle we be.
                    
                      I ne aske it for no vileinie,
                    
                      Boute for meche courteisie:
                      Line 5 
                    
                      For loue ich asked þe.'
                    
                      Wiþ þat Reynbroun wiþ-drouȝ him þere:
                    
                      Wiþ drery semlaunt & reuful chere
                    
                      To Heraud seide he:
                    
                      'Kniȝt,' a seide, 'thow ert wise,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Sleȝ, and hardi, of gret prise,
                    
                      Be god in trinite.

Page 652

                    
                      ¶ Y nolde haue told it for non awe:
                    
                      Erst ich wolde ben islawe
                    
                      In þis ilche batayle.
                    
                      In Ingelond ich was y-bore,
                    
                      So were min eldren me be-fore,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Wiþouten eni faile.
                    
                      Gij a Warwik me fader was:
                    
                      No beter kniȝt neuer nas,
                    
                      Ase wid ase man mai saile.
                    
                      A stiward hadde me fader Gioun
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þat hiȝte Heraud, þe noble baroun,
                    
                      Swiþe hiȝ of paraile.

                    
                      ¶ Lord he was of al Arderne:
                    
                      Ich was take him to lerne
                    
                      To conne of courteisie,
                    
                      And siþe marchaundes stele me
                    
                      (And brouȝte me to þis contre)
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat weren of Russie.
                    
                      Þe king me haþ dobbed kniȝt,
                    
                      & ȝeue me hors & armes briȝt
                    
                      To lede is chiualrie.
                    
                      Be me lai a dede me swere
                      Line 10 
                    
                      In eueri bataile is baner to bere:
                    
                      Þar-of y nouȝt ne lie.'

                    
                      Whan Heraud herde þis, [C line 11193] 
                    
                      Þat he Gij is sone is,
                    
                      Away a cast is scheld.
                    
                      'Lord,' a seide, 'in trinite,
                    
                      Fader and sone, y-herd þow be!
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þis dai y [a MS.]  bide in min eld, [folio 171b:b] 
                    
                      Þat ich me lordes sone se may!'
                    
                      For ioie a wep al þe day,
                    
                      And swonede in þe feld.
                    
                      Reinbroun hadde of him pite,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      And seide, 'sire kniȝt, tel what þe be,
                    
                      For god, þat alle þing weld.'

Page 653

                    
                      ¶ 'Heraud,' a seide, 'me name is:
                    
                      'Ich norschede þe, Reinbroun, y-wis;
                    
                      In my nory þow were.'
                    
                      Sone Reinbroun wiste þis,
                    
                      Þat [he] Heraud of Arderne is,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Merci a cride him þere.
                    
                      Sire Heraud tok him vp þo
                    
                      Leuelich in is armes to
                    
                      Wiþ hertte & wel gode chere.
                    
                      On here stedes lopen he,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      & forþ hii ride to þe cite
                    
                      Wiþ meche ioie y-fere.

                    
                      ¶ To þemeraile tolden he
                    
                      How þai acorded be
                    
                      Þourȝ grace of god almiȝte.
                    
                      King Arguus was ouer-come,
                    
                      & al is men y-slawe and nome
                      Line 5 
                    
                      In þat ilche fiȝte.
                    
                      Heraud & Reinbroun toke leue þo [C line 11232] 
                    
                      Into Ingelond for to go,
                    
                      And in-to schip hem diȝte.
                    
                      So longe hii sailede in þe se,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þat in a lond thanne riuede he
                    
                      Þat wonder was of siȝte.

                    
                      ¶ Hii ne seie castel ne cite:
                    
                      Erst hii wente in al þe contre
                    
                      (So distrued it is),
                    
                      Til it toward þe neuen cam.
                    
                      A castel þei seie fer hem fram:
                      Line 5 
                    
                      To þe gate þai riden, iwis.
                    
                      Of þe porter Heraud gan craue,
                    
                      'Tel me now, so god þe saue,
                    
                      Was þis castel is?
                    
                      Forhel it [Forheled MS.]  nouȝt, we bedeþ þe:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Kniȝtes we beþ of fer contre,
                    
                      Ase god ȝeue vs blis.

Page 654

                    
                      ¶ Þis in we beddeþ par cherite,
                    
                      For godes loue in trinite, [folio 172a:a] 
                    
                      Þat is lord [so] fre.
                    
                      To-morwe anon so it is day
                    
                      We scholle wenden in our way
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Towardes our contre.'
                    
                      Þe porter answerde anon riȝt,
                    
                      'Of þis lord i ne can telle no-wiȝt,
                    
                      Ne in what contre a be.
                    
                      Ac a leuedi her-in is
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Ful of del and sorwe, y-wis:
                    
                      Wel sore wepeþ ȝhe

                    
                      ¶ For hire lord þat ȝhe haþ lore:
                    
                      Ioie ne worþ hire neuer þer-fore
                    
                      For non menstralcie.'
                    
                      Þe porter in anon gan wende,
                    
                      And tolde tale ord and ende
                      Line 5 
                    
                      To Amis is leuedy:
                    
                      'Madame, her beþ come twei kniȝte:
                    
                      Noble men hii be in fiȝte.
                    
                      Þai wolde her soiurny
                    
                      Al þis niȝt, for soþ to say,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      To-morwe wenden in her way:
                    
                      Þarof y nouȝt ne lye.'

                    
                      ¶ Þe leuedi seide, 'let hym in:
                    
                      Þai scholle be serued wel afyn,
                    
                      Be þe grace of god almiȝte.'
                    
                      Þe porter wente aȝen anon,
                    
                      & to þe gate he gan gon,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      & let hem in ful riȝte.
                    
                      Þe kniȝtes were kende kore:
                    
                      Whan þai come to halle dore,
                    
                      Adoun þai gonne liȝte.
                    
                      Men toke here swerdes, scheld, & spere,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Here stedes, and here oþer gere:
                    
                      Ful wel men gan hem diȝte.

Page 655

                    
                      ¶ Þe leuedi faire grete hem anon:
                    
                      To vnarme hem hire-selue is gon
                    
                      Wiþ a wel gode chere.
                    
                      Here mete was redi wiþ-outen let: [C line 11293] 
                    
                      Anon hii were adoun y-set
                      Line 5 
                    
                      To þe sopere.
                    
                      Heraud askede hire, y-wis,
                    
                      'Dame, what þe lordes nam is
                    
                      Fayn ich wolde hire.'
                    
                      'Of þe Montayne he het Amis: [folio 172a:b] 
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Wiþinne Almayne no swich þer nis,
                    
                      Me leue frendes dere.

                    
                      ¶ A stiward was wiþ þemperour
                    
                      (To al Almayne he was treitour),
                    
                      Sire Berard of Paui:
                    
                      Me lordes swike euer was he;
                    
                      Þourȝ him in al þis sorwe we be.
                      Line 5 
                    
                      For þe loue of sire Gij,
                    
                      Þat me lord louede wel,
                    
                      & sokoured him in is castel,
                    
                      We beþ in gret vileinie.
                    
                      For þe dukes deþ Otoun,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þat was a treitour feloun,
                    
                      He vs gan beliȝe,

                    
                      ¶ And made vs fle out of þat londe,
                    
                      & in þis contre we beþ astonde,
                    
                      Þat wonder is of siȝt:
                    
                      Mechel Arderne cleped it is.
                    
                      A fairy kniȝt herin is
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat is of meche miȝt:
                    
                      Wiþ him ones fauȝt me lord,
                    
                      & ȝaf him dentes wiþ is sword
                    
                      Vpon is helm briȝt.
                    
                      Wepne mai him dere non:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      He is so hard to hewe vpon
                    
                      Ase marbel, y þe pliȝt.

Page 656

                    
                      ¶ On a dai me lord honted a best,
                    
                      & drof it out of þe forest
                    
                      Wiþ-inne is merkes stake.
                    
                      Siþþe herde ich of him namore:
                    
                      Þarfore me of-dredeþ sore
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þe kniȝt him haue take.'
                    
                      'Allas,' queþ Heraud, 'is it Amis,
                    
                      Þerl of Montaine of gret pris?'
                    
                      Gret sorwe he gan make.
                    
                      'O,' a seide, 'sire Reinbroun,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Wel a louede þe fader Gioun:
                    
                      We mote him helpe for is sake.'

                    
                      ¶ Reinbroun seide, ase he was hende,
                    
                      'Tomorwe ich wile þerder wende
                    
                      To seche sire Amis.'
                    
                      'Me swete frend,' queþ þe leuedi,
                    
                      'Be þow nouȝt to foul-hardi;
                      Line 5 
                    
                      For gret perel it is.' [folio 172b:a] 
                    
                      Amorwe Reinbroun aros erly, [C line 11357] 
                    
                      And armede him ful hastely,
                    
                      For to winne pris.
                    
                      A gode stede he bestrod,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      & forþ a wente wiþ-oute abod
                    
                      To þe forest, ywis.

                    
                      ¶ Heraud wiþ him go wolde,
                    
                      Ac he seide þat he ne scholde
                    
                      For non skines nede,
                    
                      & he dradde of him strangliche,
                    
                      & betauȝte him god in heuen riche,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      & in is wey a ȝede.
                    
                      Heraud blefte, & he gan gon:
                    
                      Þe merkes stake a pased anon,
                    
                      Þat was wel vnrede.
                    
                      Al þe dai a tok þe pas,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Til it noun apased was,
                    
                      Ridand vpon is stede.

Page 657

                    
                      ¶ An hille he seȝ before him þere:
                    
                      Gates þeron maked were.
                    
                      Forþ riȝt he rod in.
                    
                      Þe gate aȝen anon was spered:
                    
                      Þo was Reinbroun sore afered,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      & faste blessede him.
                    
                      Nouȝt he ne seȝ boute þesternesse.
                    
                      Half a mile a rod, ywisse:
                    
                      Þe wai was þerk and dim.
                    
                      He rod ase faste ase a miȝte:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þanne he seȝ more liȝte
                    
                      Be a water is brim.

                    
                      ¶ To þe water he com sone þas: [C line 11389] 
                    
                      A riuer be a launde [alaunde MS.]  þer was;
                    
                      Þar he gan to liȝte.
                    
                      Faire hit was y-growe wiþ gras:
                    
                      A fairer place neuer nas
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat he seȝ wiþ siȝte.
                    
                      On þat place was a paleis on:
                    
                      Swich ne seȝ he neuer non,
                    
                      Ne of so meche miȝte.
                    
                      Þe walles were of cristal,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þe heling was of fin ruwal
                    
                      Þat schon swiþe briȝte.

                    
                      ¶ Þe reftes al cipres be,
                    
                      Þat swote smal casten he [folio 172b:b] 
                    
                      Ouer al aboute.
                    
                      Þe resins wer of fin coral,
                    
                      To-gedre iuned wiþ metal
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Wiþ-inne and ek wiþ-oute.
                    
                      On þe front stod a charbokel ston:
                    
                      Ouer al þe contre it schon,
                    
                      Wiþ-outen eni doute.
                    
                      Postes and laces þat þer were
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Of iaspe gentil þat was dere,
                    
                      Al of one soute.

Page 658

                    
                      ¶ Þe paleis was beloken al
                    
                      Aboute wiþ a marbel [amarbel MS.]  wal
                    
                      Of noble entaile.
                    
                      Vpon eueriche kernal
                    
                      Was ful of speres & of springal,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And stoutliche enbataile.
                    
                      Wiþoute þe gate stod a tre [atre MS.] 
                    
                      Wiþ foules of mani kines gle
                    
                      Singande, wiþ-oute faile.
                    
                      Þe water was so sterne & grim,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Miȝte no man come þerin,
                    
                      Boute he hadde schip to saile.

                    
                      Reinbroun dorste nouȝt pasy:
                    
                      Wiþ is spere a gan [agan MS.]  it prouy,
                    
                      How dep hit was beside.
                    
                      He þouȝte on is fader fot hot:
                    
                      Þe stede in þe side a smot,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      & in he gan to ride.
                    
                      Ouer is helm þe water is gon:
                    
                      He nolde haue be þer for eiȝte non;
                    
                      Swich aunter him gan betide.
                    
                      Er he vp of þe water ferde,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      A fond it was þretti mete ȝerde:
                    
                      So dep he gan doun glide.

                    
                      ¶ Þanne he þouȝte on Iesu Crist:
                    
                      His hors was wel swiþe trist,
                    
                      & quikliche swam to londe:
                    
                      His fet fastnede on þe grounde.
                    
                      Reinbroun was glad in þat stounde,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And þankede gode[s] sonde.
                    
                      In-to þe pales he him dede:
                    
                      He [be]helde þe est[r]es of þat stede;
                    
                      For no man a nolde wonde.
                    
                      Ac wimman ne man fand he non þere [folio 173a:a] 
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þat wiþ him speke or confort bere
                    
                      Naiþer sitte ne stonde.

Page 659

                    
                      ¶ And þar-of war a is.
                    
                      Into a chaumber a goþ, y-wis:
                    
                      A knight a seȝ al-one.
                    
                      A grette him wiþ wordes fre,
                    
                      & seide, 'sire, god wiþ þe be,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat sit an heȝ in trone.
                    
                      Sire,' a sede, 'tel þow me
                    
                      Ȝif þis pales þin owen be:
                    
                      Ich bidde þe a bone.
                    
                      &, ȝif þow ert her in prisoun diȝt,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Tel hit me, so wel þow miȝt:
                    
                      To me now make þe mone.'

                    
                      ¶ Amis answerde to Reinbroun, [C line 11459] 
                    
                      'In Almayne ich was a baroun,
                    
                      And now icham for-lore.
                    
                      Ich was driue out wiþ a feloun,
                    
                      And now y lye her in prisoun:
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Allas þat ich was bore!
                    
                      Of þis paleis inam no lord.
                    
                      Ich telle þe a soþe word
                    
                      Wiþoute oþ iswore:
                    
                      Hit is a kniȝtes of fayri,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      And al þis forest her-by,
                    
                      A sterne man y-kore.

                    
                      ¶ Þis paleys is of swiche miȝt,
                    
                      Her schel no man elde, apliȝt,
                    
                      Be he her neuer so longe.
                    
                      Þei he wer her a þosand ȝer,
                    
                      In is heued schel hore non her,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Ne non elde fonge.'
                    
                      Reinbroun seide, 'ert þow Amis,
                    
                      Þerl of Montayne of gret pris?
                    
                      Þow singest a reuly songe.
                    
                      Now ichaue fonde þe,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þow schelt wende now wiþ me
                    
                      Out of þe paines stronge.'

Page 660

                    
                      ¶ Amis seide, [Another seide erased.]  'spek nouȝt so:
                    
                      Of þe me wondreþ, so mot y go,
                    
                      Þat þow ert hider y-come.
                    
                      Siþe þis world ferst began,
                    
                      In þis paleis ne [s n in l. 5, and er i no in l. 6 a]  com noman,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Boute ȝif a wer i-nome, [s n in l. 5, and er i no in l. 6 a] 
                    
                      Boute ȝif þe lord him hider ladde, [folio 173a:b] 
                    
                      Oþer of him sum leue hadde:
                    
                      Nis non so hardi gome.
                    
                      How miȝtest þow lede me,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Whan þow miȝt nouȝt saue þe?
                    
                      Ich telle þe at þe frome.'

                    
                      ¶ Reinbroun seide, 'drede nouȝt þe;
                    
                      Þar-fore schel hit nouȝt lete be.
                    
                      Go we anon riȝt.
                    
                      Ȝif eni man so hardi were
                    
                      Þat vs wolde at-helde here,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      His deþ wer y-diȝt:
                    
                      Swich a strok ich him ȝeue wolde,
                    
                      Þat is heued lese a scholde,
                    
                      Be grace of god almiȝt.
                    
                      Þei he wer te bataile boun
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Ase sterne alse eni lyoun,
                    
                      Wiþ him ich wile fiȝt.'

                    
                      ¶ Amis seide, 'let now be:
                    
                      Swiche stringþe mai nouȝt helpe þe
                    
                      Aȝenes sire Gayere;
                    
                      For noþing ne schel him dere
                    
                      Wiþ no wepne þat man may bere,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Naiþer stel ne yre;
                    
                      Ac, ȝif þow wilt ouercome him,
                    
                      Þat ilche swerd to þe nym
                    
                      Þat hangeþ a þe pylere.'
                    
                      Reinbroun braide it out anon riȝt:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þe chaumber was al ful of liȝt
                    
                      Þat schon swiþe clere.

Page 661

                    
                      To þerl Amis anon a wond,
                    
                      & tok him vp be þe hond:
                    
                      No leng hii nolde abide.
                    
                      Out of þe paleys boþe hii ȝede,
                    
                      And lopen on Reinbroun is stede,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And forþ þai gonne ride.
                    
                      Nouȝt fer þannes beþ hii gon,
                    
                      Þai be-held aȝen anon
                    
                      Vpon here riȝt side:
                    
                      Comande hii seȝe ride a kniȝt
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Upon a stede gode and liȝt,
                    
                      Prikande wiþ pride.

                    
                      ¶ Swift ase swalwe he com ride:
                    
                      'Kniȝtes,' a seide, 'ȝe scholle abide,
                    
                      No forþer þat ȝe ne wende. [folio 173b:a] 
                    
                      In me paleys þow hast y-be,
                    
                      And me prisoun ledest wiþ þe:
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þow dost a dede vn-hende.
                    
                      Her ȝe sholle bleue bo
                    
                      In me prisoun for euer-mo
                    
                      Into þe worldes ende,
                    
                      Or þow schelt, Reinbroun, þin hed forgo.
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Kep for me: icham þe fo;
                    
                      Bataile y wile þe sende.'

                    
                      ¶ Þerl Amys þer aliȝte:
                    
                      Arome he drouȝ him anon riȝte, [C line 11545] 
                    
                      And Reinbroun Gayer gan smite.
                    
                      Gret strokes hii smite betwene,
                    
                      Þat adoun hii fellen bene:
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Aiþer sparede oþer lite.
                    
                      Siþe þai drowe brondes on grounde,
                    
                      & hewe to-gedre wiþ grimly wounde
                    
                      Wiþ swerdes þat wolde bite.
                    
                      Ȝe herde neuer a stringe[r] fiȝt.
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Reinbroun stirede him as gode kniȝt:
                    
                      Hit was him nouȝt to wite.

Page 662

                    
                      ¶ He þouȝte on is fader anon riȝt:
                    
                      Ase fresch a was to fiȝt
                    
                      Ase grehonde to hare.
                    
                      Betwene hem twie was gret fiȝt:
                    
                      Aiþer smot oþer in helmes briȝt,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And delde dentes sare.
                    
                      Þai hewe helm and scheldes bo:
                    
                      Gret fiȝt was betwene hem to;
                    
                      Swich herde ȝe neuer are.
                    
                      Reinbroun made [made repeated in MS.]  him to blede,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      And felde him doun of is stede:
                    
                      Þanne was he out of care.

                    
                      ¶ Reinbroun be þe nose him tok,
                    
                      And drouȝ to him, & faste him schok:
                    
                      Þat greuede him ful sore.
                    
                      His heued benome him he hadde
                    
                      Ner it þat he merci gradde,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      & seide, 'sire R[e]inbroun, þin ore,
                    
                      For þe fader loue Gii,
                    
                      Þe beste kniȝt, sikerly,
                    
                      Þat euer was y-bore.
                    
                      Wiþ þat þow haue merci on me,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Al me prisouns diliured be, [folio 173b:b] 
                    
                      And hennes for euermore.'

                    
                      ¶ R[e]inbroun seide, 'so y schel:
                    
                      In þat forward y graunte wel
                    
                      Þat þow aliue go,
                    
                      So þe prisouns diliured be;
                    
                      Þar-to þe treuþe pliȝte me
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Betwene vs-selue to.'
                    
                      R[e]inbroun glad & bliþe is: [C line 11581] 
                    
                      He hadde diliured sire Amis,
                    
                      Þre hondred kniȝtes & mo.
                    
                      Into þe castel wenten hii,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þar was Heraud & þe leuedy
                    
                      Ful of sorwe and wo.

Page 663

                    
                      ¶ Þai wer welcomed [The first e altered from an o.]  wiþ fair gle.
                    
                      Whan þe leuedi hire lord gan se,
                    
                      Ȝhe made meche blis,
                    
                      & Heraud, forsoþe, dede also,
                    
                      And herede god almiȝti þo,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And Amis he gan kisse.
                    
                      Heraud tolde him al is treye,
                    
                      How he hadde in prisoun leye,
                    
                      For-soþe wiþ-outen misse,
                    
                      Fo[r] me [Read his?]  lordes loue Reynbroun,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      What sorwe he hadde in prisoun,
                    
                      Honger, and þesternesse.

                    
                      ¶ 'Þis is Reinbroun, Gii is sone,
                    
                      Þat haþ set þe out of prisone,
                    
                      And [brouȝt] þe out of þe care.'
                    
                      Al is lif a tolde him þo,
                    
                      How Gij was out of londe y-go,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And how hit was y-fare.
                    
                      Among hem gret ioie þer is:
                    
                      In þe castel was meche blis
                    
                      Among alle þare.
                    
                      Euerich of hem oþer gan kisse,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      And made meche ioie & blisse:
                    
                      For blisse þai wepe ful sare.

                    
                      ¶ Wiþ þat þer com a kniȝt riding:
                    
                      To þerl Amis a brouȝte tiding [C line 11611] 
                    
                      Fro þat emperur,
                    
                      Þat þe duk Berard ded is:
                    
                      A palmer slouȝ him, y-wis,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Wiþ wel mechel onour.
                    
                      Þemperur hadde sent is sonde [folio 174a:a] 
                    
                      A scholde come, and [haue] is londe,
                    
                      Boþe toune and tour;
                    
                      & þat þerl Terry and he
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Were skyred and maked fre
                    
                      Þourȝ þe conquerur.

Page 664

                    
                      ¶ Sire Amis wiþ is meyne [C line 11641] 
                    
                      Wente hom to is contre
                    
                      To þat emperour:
                    
                      A ȝaf him is londes fre,
                    
                      Boþe castel and cite,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Wiþ wel meche onour.
                    
                      Glad of him was þemperur fre:
                    
                      Euer a was to him priue
                    
                      Boþe in halle and bour.
                    
                      And also was þerl Terry,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þat was þerles sone Aubry,
                    
                      A man of gret fauour.

                    
                      Heraud [Beraud MS. by a mistake of the rubricator.]  & Reinbroun tok leue þo
                    
                      Into Ingelonde te go: [C line 11629] 
                    
                      Þanne was þe leuedi in care.
                    
                      Mani iurne þai ride þo [C line 11649] 
                    
                      Þourȝ Spayne & þourȝ londes mo:
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Into Bourgoyne þai come ware;
                    
                      Þe contre was strued doun riȝt.
                    
                      Heraud askede askede at a kniȝt
                    
                      How hit was y-fare.
                    
                      He seide, 'þe duk of Marce y-told,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þat is a stout kniȝt and bold,
                    
                      Vs haþ y-brouȝt in care.

                    
                      ¶ Vpon our erl werreþ he:
                    
                      He naþ leued boute þis cite,
                    
                      Þat he naþ y-nome.
                    
                      Ac þis castel is gode engyn:
                    
                      Noblech a wereþ him þer-in
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Also a douȝti gome.
                    
                      Wiþ him he haþ a noble kniȝt,
                    
                      His souder, siker apliȝt,
                    
                      Þat to him is y-come.
                    
                      Ȝong a is, so þenkeþ me,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Nouȝt twenti winter old nis he,
                    
                      Ich telle þe at þe frome.

Page 665

                    
                      ¶ In þis launde her-before
                    
                      An hondred haþ her lif y-lore,
                    
                      Whan he seȝ hem ride. [folio 174a:b] 
                    
                      Her forþ ne schel pase no kniȝt,
                    
                      Ȝif he haþ brenye [breyne MS.]  or stede liȝt,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat he ne schel abide,
                    
                      And for-lese þer þat on,
                    
                      Oþer is heued riȝt anon
                    
                      Be þe wode side.
                    
                      Ȝif ȝe be þat launde gon,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Ich telle ȝow be sein Ion,
                    
                      Swich aunture ȝow schel betide.'

                    
                      ¶ 'O, god be þanked,' queþ Reinbroun,
                    
                      'Ichaue founde me compaynoun,
                    
                      Me felle wiþ to fiȝte.
                    
                      Ȝif he wile haue oure þing,
                    
                      Y schel him teche, wiþ-outen lesing,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat he doþ vnriȝte.'
                    
                      Nouȝt fer þanne ne beþ þai gon,
                    
                      Þai be-helde aȝen anon:
                    
                      Hii siȝe his armes briȝte
                    
                      Vpon a stede whit so flour;
                      Line 10 
                    
                      His armes wer of rede kolour,
                    
                      A semede of meche miȝte.

                    
                      ¶ 'Sire Heraud,' seide Reinbroun,
                    
                      'Now y se þat bolde baroun
                    
                      Þat is so stout a fere.
                    
                      Wiþ vs to fiȝte he makeþ him ȝare:
                    
                      Wiþ him to iusten ich wile fare
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Emforþ me powere.
                    
                      Ich him asaile, ȝif þow wilt so.'
                    
                      Heraud seide, 'so þow schelt do,
                    
                      Me leue sone dere.'
                    
                      Swiþe þeder rod Reinbroun,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      & he in þe launde com adoun
                    
                      Vpon is deistrere.

Page 666

                    
                      Aiþer was prout & mody: [C line 11715] 
                    
                      No word þai speke, sikerly,
                    
                      To-gedres þai gonne driue.
                    
                      Aiþer hitte oþer in þe scheld,
                    
                      Þat boþe hii fellen in þe feld
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Of here hors beliue.
                    
                      Siþe þai drowe brondes of stel,
                    
                      And hewe togedre hard & wel,
                    
                      And delde dentes riue,
                    
                      & laiden on wiþ swerdes clere:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Helm and scheld, þat stronge were, [folio 174b:a] 
                    
                      Þai gonne hem al to-schliue.

                    
                      ¶ Heraud beheld longe þat fiȝt:
                    
                      For Reinbroun a bad te god almiȝt
                    
                      Þat he non harm ne fonge.
                    
                      To him-selue a seide þare
                    
                      Swich fiȝt ne seȝ he neuer are
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Of dentes þat were stronge.
                    
                      'Sire kniȝt,' seide Reinbroun,
                    
                      'Vnderstand to me resoun,
                    
                      So god þe saule fonge,
                    
                      Ac neuer ne fond ich a kniȝt
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þat me strokes driȝe miȝt
                    
                      Haluendel so longe.

                    
                      What is þe name? whar wer þe bore?
                    
                      Ich þe praie, tel me fore,
                    
                      For loue of oure driȝte,
                    
                      &, ȝif þow wost ȝelde þe,
                    
                      Ich schel þe lede to me contre.
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Me treuþe i schel þe pliȝte:
                    
                      Y schel þe ȝeue [One or two letters erased after ȝeue.]  castel & cite,
                    
                      Bourwes, & tounes, & riche fe,
                    
                      And mani a douȝti kniȝte;
                    
                      For þow ert of gret power:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      In al þis world þer nis þe per
                    
                      Þat man finde miȝte.

Page 667

                    
                      ¶ 'Sire kniȝt,' þanne answerde he,
                    
                      'Y nel nouȝt, be him þat made me,
                    
                      Telle þe me name.
                    
                      Þourȝ þe sarmoun scheltow nouȝt wite
                    
                      Whar y was boren ne gete
                      Line 5 
                    
                      An erneste ne a game:
                    
                      Erst y schel þe sle, verament.
                    
                      Sire, let be þe prechement:
                    
                      Hit is þe meche schame;
                    
                      Ac neuer kniȝt i ne fond
                      Line 10 
                    
                      So wel worchande wiþ dent of brond
                    
                      Þat ich fauȝt wiþ y-same.

                    
                      Ac y ne sei nouȝt for þam:
                    
                      Þin heued y schel smite þe fram,
                    
                      For-soþe, wiþ-oute more.
                    
                      Þat olde man þat ich y-se
                    
                      (Y ne wot ȝif he þe fader be,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Or þow ert wiþ him at lore), [folio 174b:b] 
                    
                      Lite a louede [alouede MS.]  [þe], siker þow be,
                    
                      Whan a sente þe to me,
                    
                      He wiþ þe berde hore.
                    
                      Whan ichaue þin hed of-take,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Be þe berd y schel him schake,
                    
                      Þat him schel smerte sore.

                    
                      ¶ So y schel him þer-bi ploke,
                    
                      Þat al is teþ schel roke
                    
                      Þat sitteþ in is heued.'
                    
                      &, þo Reinbroun herde þis, [C line 11767] 
                    
                      Þat Heraud dispised is,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      His swerd to him a weued:
                    
                      A strok a smot is helm vpon,
                    
                      Þat a quarter gan doun gon;
                    
                      Hit was half to-cleued.
                    
                      Wiþ þat strok a stente adoun al,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      & to þe erþe a is y-fal:
                    
                      His lif neȝ he hadde leued.

Page 668

                    
                      'O frend,' a seide, 'ich bidde þe lete,
                    
                      For it is meche foly to þrete
                    
                      Eni man aliue.'
                    
                      & he ascorn bad him lete,
                    
                      And a sterte vpon is fete
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Hasteliche and bliue.
                    
                      Haslak smot Reinbroun anon,
                    
                      Þat to þe bokel þe schel[d] chon:
                    
                      Neȝ a gan doun driue.
                    
                      Strong and gode hii wer boþe:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Eiþer kedde þat hii wer wroþe
                    
                      To bringe oþer of liue.

                    
                      ¶ Betwene hem strong fiȝt þer is:
                    
                      Swich ne herde [ȝe] neuer, iwis,
                    
                      Siþe þat ȝe wer bore.
                    
                      So miȝte nouȝt longe be:
                    
                      Þat [on] moste þat oþer sle
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Of þe kniȝtes kende i-core.
                    
                      Heraud be-held þat bataile,
                    
                      How aiþer gan oþer asaile:
                    
                      Wo was him þer-fore.
                    
                      A gret harm him þouȝte it were
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Ȝif aiþer slouȝ oþer þere:
                    
                      For hem a wep wel sore.

                    
                      ¶ Wiþ þat amonges hem com he,
                    
                      And seide, 'kniȝt, for godes pite,
                    
                      Herkne to me a stounde. [folio 175a:a] 
                    
                      Let now ben al ȝour fiȝt,
                    
                      And aȝild þe to þis kniȝt
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat þou hast her y-founde.
                    
                      For he is man of gret power:
                    
                      In al þis world þer nis is per,
                    
                      Ne of so meche mounde.
                    
                      In is merci, y rede, þow [þe] do,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Er þan be mad betwene ȝow to
                    
                      Eni mo harde wounde.'

Page 669

                    
                      He answerde wiþ-oute more,
                    
                      'Say me ferst, þow faimel hore, [C line 11803] 
                    
                      Also god þe [me struck out before þe.]  spede,
                    
                      Why me stringþe is for-lore:
                    
                      Siþþe þe time þat ich was bore
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Y nas in swiche a drede.
                    
                      Ȝif þow ert of fendes come,
                    
                      For whi þis drede me haue nome,
                    
                      Ich wolde þat þow me sede.
                    
                      In gode[s] name ich coniure þe
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þat þow þe soþe telle me,
                    
                      And be al is ferede.'

                    
                      ¶ Heraud seide, 'þer-of be stille:
                    
                      Þat telle þe [nis] me wille
                    
                      For noman aliue.
                    
                      Erst þow schelt telle me
                    
                      Wheþen þow ert, & what thow be,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Also mote y þriue.
                    
                      Þanne y schel telle þe riȝt
                    
                      Boþe of me and of þis kniȝt
                    
                      Þat ȝif[þ] þe dentes riue.
                    
                      Þin hauberk is al to-siȝe,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      And þe face wiþ blod bewriȝe
                    
                      Of woundes mo þan fiue.'

                    
                      ¶ He answerde, 'þow seist wel.
                    
                      Boute for drede, be sein Miȝel,
                    
                      Y nolde ben aknowe,
                    
                      Ac for ich wolde wite an haste
                    
                      Whi ich was so sore agaste
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Now in a lite þrowe.
                    
                      In Ingelonde ich was bore,
                    
                      So were min eldren me before
                    
                      Boþe heȝ and lowe.
                    
                      Heraud me fader het, y-wis: [y wis faded.] 
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Of Walingforde lord a is, [folio 175a:b] 
                    
                      And al þe contre is owe.

Page 670

                    
                      ¶ Out of londe þan wente he
                    
                      To seche Gi is sone þe fre,
                    
                      Þat marchauns stele away.
                    
                      To þerl of Winchester y was sent:
                    
                      Þar ich was loked, veraiment,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Boþe niȝtes and day.
                    
                      Whan ich was woxe of meche pris,
                    
                      Douȝti, and swiþe strong, y-wis,
                    
                      Me felawes gonne say
                    
                      Þat y nas of dedes nouȝt,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      For þat y me fader [ne] souȝt
                    
                      In vnkouþe contray.

                    
                      ¶ To Walingforde y [he MS.]  gan gon,
                    
                      Me fader is armes þer y fond anon,
                    
                      His hauberk and is stede,
                    
                      His scheld, and is helm briȝt,
                    
                      And is swerd gode and liȝt,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þat he was woned to lede.
                    
                      Me selue y dobbed me kniȝt þare:
                    
                      Man ne tolde ich it neuer are,
                    
                      Also god me spede.
                    
                      Out of þat londe ich wente þo
                      Line 10 
                    
                      To seche me fader [in] wer & wo
                    
                      In mani an vnkouþ þede.

                    
                      ¶ Of werre ne herde y neuer speke,
                    
                      Þat y ne com þer me fader to seke:
                    
                      Þus to þis lord y cam.
                    
                      Þe duk of Marce haþ strued him,
                    
                      Boute þis castel is gode engyn.
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Þe lord þat y wiþ am
                    
                      Neȝ he hadde is lond for-lore
                    
                      (Swiþe wo was him þar-fore),
                    
                      And mani a douȝti [adouȝti MS.]  man.
                    
                      Boute þretti hors he nadde þo:
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Now he haþ þre hondred & mo
                    
                      Þat ich in bataile wan.'

Page 671

                    
                      Heraud herde þis wordes alle:
                    
                      Byter teres he let doun falle, [C line 11895] 
                    
                      And seide, 'what is the name?'
                    
                      'Haslak,' a seide, 'þow schelt me calle.
                    
                      Heraud het me fader in halle,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      & Cristiane het me dame. [folio 175b:a] 
                    
                      Now þow wost whar ich was bore,
                    
                      And what ich hatte wiþ-oute more
                    
                      An erneste and agame:
                    
                      To forward þow schelt telle me
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Whi ich was afered of [of indistinct.]  þe
                    
                      Þat we made er y-same.'

                    
                      ¶ Heraud beheld þe ȝonge kniȝt,
                    
                      Ac o word speke he ne miȝt
                    
                      For meche ioie and blisse.
                    
                      'Heraud is me name, apliȝt,
                    
                      And þow Haslak y se wiþ siȝt,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Me sone, wiþ-oute misse.
                    
                      Þis is þe lord, sire Reinbroun:
                    
                      Ichaue had for him in prisoun
                    
                      Honger and þesternesse.
                    
                      Þe miȝt him se: a stant [astant MS.]  þe by.
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Ȝild him þe swerd in is merci,
                    
                      And pray him þat he þe kisse.'

                    
                      ¶ Þo Haslak wiste sikerly
                    
                      Hit was is fader þat stod him by,
                    
                      And is lord Reinbroun,
                    
                      Swiþe loude he gan to crie,
                    
                      'Fader, for loue of oure leuedye,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Ȝem [The e possibly altered from an i.]  me þe benesoun.'
                    
                      Ofte he knewelede to þe grounde,
                    
                      And cride him merci in þat stounde
                    
                      Wiþ gode deuocioun.
                    
                      'In þe merci y do me riȝt,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      And euermore to ben þe kniȝt
                    
                      Boþe in feld and toun.'

Page 672

                    
                      ¶ Þo Reinbroun wiste þis,
                    
                      Þat he Heraud is sone is,
                    
                      Up he gan him take.
                    
                      Leueliche a kiste him þo,
                    
                      Sire Heraud, for-soþ, dede also:
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Meche blisse þai gonne make.
                    
                      Haslak ladde hem faire and wel [C line 11935] 
                    
                      Hom til is lordes castel,
                    
                      And tolde, wiþ-oute sake,
                    
                      Þat he hadde is fader brouȝt
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þat he hadde wide y-souȝt
                    
                      Wiþ meche wer and wrake,

                    
                      ¶ 'And me lord, sire Reinbroun,
                    
                      Ase sterne ase eni lyoun
                    
                      At euery skenes nede, [folio 175b:b] 
                    
                      Þat euer to bataile was boun.'
                    
                      Glad was þanne þerl Myloun,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And ȝaf hem riche mede
                    
                      Þe kniȝtes of seluer & of golde,
                    
                      Ase meche as he take wolde,
                    
                      Briȝt armur and stede.
                    
                      So þai wente sone anon
                      Line 10 
                    
                      For to wreke hem of here fon,
                    
                      Ȝif god hem wolde spede.

                    
                      Fiue dawes before þe Miȝel-mas
                    
                      Þai armede hem more & las
                    
                      Aȝen here fon to fiȝte.
                    
                      Out of þe castel þai gonne pas:
                    
                      Þe duk hii fonden in þe plas
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Wiþ mani helmes briȝte.
                    
                      Þar miȝte men se scheftes schake,
                    
                      Þar men miȝte se crounes crake
                    
                      Of mani an hardy kniȝte.
                    
                      Heraud, Haslak, and Reinbroun—
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Al þat hii smite ȝede adoun
                    
                      Of þai [Read that?]  hii mete miȝte.

Page 673

                    
                      ¶ Þe duk of Marce seȝ þat tide
                    
                      His folk was slawe be ech aside,
                    
                      & in þe feld alto-dreued.
                    
                      He prikede is stede wiþ meche pride:
                    
                      Aȝenes þerl he gan ride,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      And smot him on þe heued.
                    
                      Almest a felde þerl adoun:
                    
                      Heraud com wiþ is fauchoun,
                    
                      His body ato he cleued.
                    
                      Þanne Haslak and Reinbroun
                      Line 10 
                    
                      Þerl is folk þai felde adoun:
                    
                      Noþing þai ne leued.

                    
                      ¶ Þis seȝ al þe barnage:
                    
                      For to do þerl omage,
                    
                      Merci þai gonne crie.
                    
                      Kniȝtes, squier, and page
                    
                      Þai toke þer in-to ostage
                      Line 5 
                    
                      Of þe duk is partye.
                    
                      Þus þai stablede þe lond wiþ fiȝt,
                    
                      & þerafter anon riȝt
                    
                      Þai toke leue an hiȝe.
                    
                      In-te Ingelonde þai gonne saile. [The next leaf gone.] 
                      Line 10 
                    
                      . . . . .
                    
                      . . . . .
                    
                      [A Londres sont tut dreit ale, [folio 181a:a] 
                    
                      Ou le rei Athelstan ont troue. [C line 11953] 
                    
                      Le rei encontre eus est ale,
                    
                      Od li le meulz de la cite.
                    
                      Mult duement les ad honure,
                      Line 5 
                    
                      E del suen assez done.
                    
                      A Rainbrun doune sun conte,
                    
                      E si lui acrest mult sun fie.
                    
                      Treis iours i ont soiurne,
                    
                      Al quart ont pris lur congie,
                      Line 10 
                    
                      A Warewik uunt, la bone cite:

Page 674

                    
                      Cil del pais sunt mult le.
                    
                      Rainbrun prent de ses hommes feute:
                    
                      Mult par est entre eus ame.
                    
                      Heraud sen ua a Walingeford,
                      Line 15 
                    
                      A son chastel bon e fort.
                    
                      Desore i uodra soiurner
                    
                      Od sa femme, bone mulier,
                    
                      Kar mult ad son cors trauaille
                    
                      En plusurs lius por sa leaute.
                      Line 20

                    
                      De ceste estorie uoil fin faire:
                    
                      Plus nen uoil desore traire.
                    
                      Bel ensaumple i peut em prendre
                    
                      Qui bien la siet e ueut entendre
                    
                      De pruesce amer, leaute tenir,
                      Line 25 
                    
                      De tuz biens faire e mal gerpir,
                    
                      Orguil, richesces auer en despit:
                    
                      De Guion nus aprent le escrit
                    
                      Ceo est la summe de la ualur, [folio 181a:b] 
                    
                      Ke tut guerpi pur sun creatur.
                      Line 30 
                    
                      E cil qui en la sainte trinite
                    
                      Vn deu est par sa pite
                    
                      Nus doint en terre si servir,
                    
                      Ke ali en glorie puissums venir. Amen.]

About this Item

Pages

description Page 631

Reinbrun, Gij sone of Warwike.

description Page 632

description Page 633

description Page 634

description Page 635

description Page 636

description Page 637

description Page 638

description Page 639

description Page 640

description Page 641

description Page 642

description Page 643

description Page 644

description Page 645

description Page 646

description Page 647

description Page 648

description Page 649

description Page 650

description Page 651

description Page 652

description Page 653

description Page 654

description Page 655

description Page 656

description Page 657

description Page 658

description Page 659

description Page 660

description Page 661

description Page 662

description Page 663

description Page 664

description Page 665

description Page 666

description Page 667

description Page 668

description Page 669

description Page 670

description Page 671

description Page 672

description Page 673

description Page 674

Page 631

Page 632

Page 633

Page 634

Page 635

Page 636

Page 637

Page 638

Page 639

Page 640

Page 641

Page 642

Page 643

Page 644

Page 645

Page 646

Page 647

Page 648

Page 649

Page 650

Page 651

Page 652

Page 653

Page 654

Page 655

Page 656

Page 657

Page 658

Page 659

Page 660

Page 661

Page 662

Page 663

Page 664

Page 665

Page 666

Page 667

Page 668

Page 669

Page 670

Page 671

Page 672

Page 673

Page 674